Brandon fidgeted with the small glass vial in his pocket as he watched Ryan from across the campus lawn. The sun bathed the quadrangle in golden light, but it only highlighted the stark contrast between the two young men.
Ryan, with his wire-rimmed glasses and perpetually tousled hair, had an unassuming charm. Girls who once dismissed him as nerdy now found his intelligence and genuine kindness irresistible. It ate at Brandon—down to the core of his being. Brandon, with his sculpted physique and hollow sense of self-worth, had long since slipped into the shadows, hungrily observing from afar.
But Brandon had a plan—drastic and dark—but a plan nonetheless. He’d spent weeks under the radar, researching into the darker corners of biochemical manipulation. Finally, after numerous clandestine transactions, he had obtained what he believed would be the solution to his problem: a formula that would metamorphose Ryan into a hollow, wearable shell of himself.
That afternoon, as Ryan immersed himself in his textbooks at the library, Brandon's time arrived. With calculated steps, he approached, ensuring his footsteps were neither hurried nor hesitant. Ryan glanced up, offering his usual friendly smile, unaware that this would be their last mundane encounter.
“Hey, Ryan. Mind if I sit here?” Brandon asked, the formula concealed in a small tube in his hand. Ryan agreed, his eyes already shifting back to his book.
Minutes passed in awkward silence before Brandon made his move. With a swift motion, he uncapped the vial and emptied its contents onto Ryan's skin. Before Ryan could react, the transformation began. His body spasmed and shimmered, as if consumed by a ghostly light from within, and a haunting silence filled the air. Brandon’s heart pounded in anticipation and fear.
Ryan’s form grew limp, and his features sagged. Clothes crumpled over his diminishing physique until all that remained was the eerie semblance of a once-living being—now a hollow, malleable suit. Brandon, with a morbid mix of exhilaration and dread, began the meticulous process of donning Ryan's shell.
First, he slipped his legs into the uncanny synthetic skin, feeling the fabric adhere to his frame, contours morphing and swelling to accommodate his larger build. As he pulled the suit upwards, it melded with his muscles, until his own identity was subsumed into Ryan’s likeness. When he finally drew the mask over his face, aligning perfectly with his new visage, an odd calm washed over him.
He walked to the library’s restroom, intending to examine his transformation. Standing in front of the mirror, Brandon marveled—or rather, Ryan marveled—at his reflection. There stood an idealized version of Ryan: retaining the beloved nerdy features, but now augmented by Brandon’s imposing build.
Classmates greeted Brandon-now-Ryan with jovial recognition, more readily diving into conversations laced with a blend of respect and envy. Yet, even as he basked in the newfound reverence, shadows of doubt gnawed at his psyche. How far had he drifted into the abyss, trading humanity for a borrowed identity?
As days turned into weeks, the novelty began to wear thin. With every interaction, Brandon-now-Ryan grappled with the chasm within. He had the facade, the adoration he craved, but at the cost of witnessing the haunting hollows only he could see in Ryan’s once lively eyes.
Whispers of the real Ryan’s disappearance began circulating, and while Brandon-now-Ryan played the reassuring friend, those whispers echoed louder in the corners of his mind. He wondered, with increasing frequency, if the ultimate price of envy was an eternal entrapment in another’s skin, forever tethered to a stolen, hollow existence.
The suit had given Brandon what he wanted—or so he thought—but in his hollow heart, he began to understand he could never outrun himself.
This story was generated by user brandon3 with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.
Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.
Prompt: Brandon is very jealous of ryans nerdy looks. So Brandon decides to inject Ryan with a formula that turns his body into a full body suit that's hollowed out. Brandon then begins to put on the body suit and slowly becomes a big version of ryan
Response: Brandon fidgeted with the small glass vial in his pocket as he watched Ryan from across the campus lawn. The sun bathed the quadrangle in golden light, but it only highlighted the stark contrast between the two young men. Ryan, with his wire-rimmed glasses and perpetually tousled hair, had an unassuming charm. Girls who once dismissed him as nerdy now found his intelligence and genuine kindness irresistible. It ate at Brandon—down to the core of his being. Brandon, with his sculpted physique and hollow sense of self-worth, had long since slipped into the shadows, hungrily observing from afar. But Brandon had a plan—drastic and dark—but a plan nonetheless. He’d spent weeks under the radar, researching into the darker corners of biochemical manipulation. Finally, after numerous clandestine transactions, he had obtained what he believed would be the solution to his problem: a formula that would metamorphose Ryan into a hollow, wearable shell of himself. That afternoon, as Ryan immersed himself in his textbooks at the library, Brandon's time arrived. With calculated steps, he approached, ensuring his footsteps were neither hurried nor hesitant. Ryan glanced up, offering his usual friendly smile, unaware that this would be their last mundane encounter. “Hey, Ryan. Mind if I sit here?” Brandon asked, the formula concealed in a small tube in his hand. Ryan agreed, his eyes already shifting back to his book. Minutes passed in awkward silence before Brandon made his move. With a swift motion, he uncapped the vial and emptied its contents onto Ryan's skin. Before Ryan could react, the transformation began. His body spasmed and shimmered, as if consumed by a ghostly light from within, and a haunting silence filled the air. Brandon’s heart pounded in anticipation and fear. Ryan’s form grew limp, and his features sagged. Clothes crumpled over his diminishing physique until all that remained was the eerie semblance of a once-living being—now a hollow, malleable suit. Brandon, with a morbid mix of exhilaration and dread, began the meticulous process of donning Ryan's shell. First, he slipped his legs into the uncanny synthetic skin, feeling the fabric adhere to his frame, contours morphing and swelling to accommodate his larger build. As he pulled the suit upwards, it melded with his muscles, until his own identity was subsumed into Ryan’s likeness. When he finally drew the mask over his face, aligning perfectly with his new visage, an odd calm washed over him. He walked to the library’s restroom, intending to examine his transformation. Standing in front of the mirror, Brandon marveled—or rather, Ryan marveled—at his reflection. There stood an idealized version of Ryan: retaining the beloved nerdy features, but now augmented by Brandon’s imposing build. Classmates greeted Brandon-now-Ryan with jovial recognition, more readily diving into conversations laced with a blend of respect and envy. Yet, even as he basked in the newfound reverence, shadows of doubt gnawed at his psyche. How far had he drifted into the abyss, trading humanity for a borrowed identity? As days turned into weeks, the novelty began to wear thin. With every interaction, Brandon-now-Ryan grappled with the chasm within. He had the facade, the adoration he craved, but at the cost of witnessing the haunting hollows only he could see in Ryan’s once lively eyes. Whispers of the real Ryan’s disappearance began circulating, and while Brandon-now-Ryan played the reassuring friend, those whispers echoed louder in the corners of his mind. He wondered, with increasing frequency, if the ultimate price of envy was an eternal entrapment in another’s skin, forever tethered to a stolen, hollow existence. The suit had given Brandon what he wanted—or so he thought—but in his hollow heart, he began to understand he could never outrun himself.
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